


But Does Anything Matter If You’re Already Dead?

by Natileroxs



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, More tags to be added, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 20:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20216050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natileroxs/pseuds/Natileroxs
Summary: Gerard moves his head to Frank’s chest and, again, listens for something. Nothing again.  With trembling fingers, he feels for a pulse. He can’t find one.He pulls back with wide eyes and shakes his head. “No…”





	But Does Anything Matter If You’re Already Dead?

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if this is a one-shot or not, but this first part was written for creative writing. Hope you enjoy :)

“Frank?” He asks and shakes the sleeping boy a little. Frank’s always been a heavy sleeper, and while usually, Gerard lets him sleep in, lets him rest, they really need to go or they’ll honest to god be late. Then they’ll get in a hell of a lot of trouble. 

“Frank!” He seizes the younger male by his shoulders and pushes him side to side, waiting for any sort of response. An irritated groan, a whine of displeasure, even a scrunch of the nose. Nothing. Which is weird, usually he gets something. Frank doesn’t usually like being disturbed, choosing to batter any hands away and curl further in his blanket. 

“Gerard, Frank, seriously, we need to go!” Michael calls from outside. His hand knocks once, twice, three times before he speaks again. “Come on! What’s taking so long?” 

“Uh…” Gerard isn’t sure how to answer his brother’s question. He lets Frank thump back on the bed, a dead weight in his arms. Instead, he gets on his knees and whispers in Frank’s ear. “Frankie? Hello?” 

Nothing. 

Gerard bites his lip, unsure. He can hear his brother’s insistent rapping on the door. He hesitantly lifts his head and listens for breathing. His palms begin to sweat when he can’t feel any air on his cheek. He moves his head to Frank’s chest and, again, listens for something. Nothing again. 

With trembling fingers, he feels for a pulse. He can’t find one. 

He pulls back with wide eyes and shakes his head. “No…”

Another forceful knock at the door makes him jolt. “Hey, I don’t care if the two of you are hardcore making out in there, we need to go!” 

“Mikes,” He manages, getting a concerned hum in return. He can mutedly hear Michael fishing out a key from his pocket and the lock turning, wood creaking as he pushes it open. 

His brother takes in his shell shocked state and rushes to his side, not even bothering to shut the door. He kneels at his side and sends him a questioning look. “Gerard? What’s going on?”

Gerard reaches out to take Frank’s hand in his, working his fingers up to the wrist and pressing down, harsh yet firm. He can’t feel the consistent beat under his fingertips, and he now realises how cold Frank’s skin is to the touch. 

He shivers as Michael leans over and takes Frank’s arm from him. He does the same thing Gerard had, with the same results, and then lets the limb drop without speaking. He lets out a slow, unsteady breath and catches Gerard’s line of sight.

“What… what’s going on?” 

Gerard reaches ever so slowly into his pocket and takes out his mobile phone, dialling a number he always hoped he’d never have to call. His fingers are trembling and he can barely press the numbers, let alone speak. A woman’s voice flutters through but he can’t make out a word she’s saying. He lets the phone drop to the ground and instead rests his head on Frank’s chest.

Michael must be speaking now, but it’s muted and dull. His brother’s voice is empty of emotion, empty of feeling. 

It hurts. It hurts so much, and so he puts interlocks his grasp with Frank’s limp one and lets tears slide down his face slowly, agonisingly slowly, and into his friend’s shirt, soaking the fabric. His vision is blurred and dark, dizzyingly void of purpose. 

“Frankie?” He whispers quietly, the word almost catching in his throat. “Frankie please… please answer me.” He can hear commotion around him but he doesn’t pay it any attention. “Please, just… wake up. Can you do that for me? Please…”

He’s tugged away and the lights leave him dazed. He can make out the shape of his brother, standing stoic, stiff, but with small shivers running down his arms. Then everything goes black and his mind goes blank. 

When he wakes up he feels so much that he can’t feel anything. Hours turn into days yet they pass in what seems like seconds. Michael forces him to eat, to shower, to leave his bed. To do something other than stare at the wall or wail until the neighbours come over to complain. 

He can’t drag himself out of bed that day. Not until his brother’s already brought his lunch and sat with him as he cries. Every time he meets Michael’s gaze, he regrets it. His eyes hold so much pain, pushed back by his responsibility to look after Gerard. 

His hair sits all wrong, his nice suit is rumpled, and there are still faint smudges of black makeup from the day everything went wrong. He washes the grime from his face and reapplies the eyeshadow carefully, brushing his dark hair down as much as he can. He can’t get the tie done up, so he leaves it to drop sadly to the floor. 

The car drive is quiet, neither one of them can bear to turn the radio on so Gerard just drives in silence. Buildings, scenery, and people pass by in blurs of colour. The place they end up at is a plain white wooden structure, and the room they enter is next to nothing more interesting in his opinion. 

Everyone’s already come and gone, so him and his brother are the only ones there. Them and… 

It’s simple. Boring even. He would hate it. The lid is closed and Gerard can’t even reach over to touch it. He, instead, shuffles over to Michael and lets his brother wrap his arms around him. He shudders as a few tears make their way past his waterline and draw streaks all the way down to his chin. He looks up to see Michael’s face is pretty much in the same state. 

“I… can’t… I can’t do it…” 

“Yes you can,” Michael says softly, rubbing Gerard’s arm up and down. “You can do it.” 

Gerard steps forward on wobbly feet and gently hooks his fingers under the wood, slowly pushing upwards. He can’t look down, he can’t. Michael follows him over, forcing himself forward through sheer willpower. When he finally does take a peek, he swears his heart stops beating and tears begin to pour down his face quicker and quicker. He scrubs his eyes with his arm and stares down at his friend. 

Frank looks peaceful. He’s frowning ever so slightly, with his arms at his sides and his hands clasped together in the middle. Gerard takes in a shaky breath and wipes away the last of the tears. He then looks at Frank again and forgets how to breathe. 

Because Frank’s staring up at him with wide, scared eyes. They blink once, twice, three times, and then Gerard hears the voice he never thought he’d hear again. 

“Gee?” 


End file.
